Back To The Post Apocalyptic Future
by TermFan1980
Summary: The Time Displacement Equipment in the bank vault takes the Connor gang somewhere they didn't intend.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is intended to be a "fun-fic". Not taking anything TOO seriously here. If characters seem slightly out of character, don't worry too much about it. I'll try my best to keep things "plausible", but hey... this is a crossover fic, so it's a bit ridiculous to start with. I don't think anyone else has done a "Back To The Future" crossover yet, so this should be a lot of fun. I'll be updating this one less often than I did for my other stories, but that's because it's a secondary project that I'll add to when I get writer's block on my other ones. **

**Also... I wrote this way back during season 1, but never posted it. The episode "Self Made Man" inspired a couple things (I'm sure you'll pick them out) which made the chapter better IMO. **

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**Back To The Post Apocalyptic Future**

**Chapter 1 - Temporal Error**

The night sky flickered with strobes of blue light. The buzzing of electric interference filled the air. A light breeze that caressed the landscape grew to a forceful wind. The electric fireworks emanated from a single point in space, about 20 feet off the ground. In a matter of about one second, a bright 10 foot sphere of light grew from a singularity at the epicenter of the lighting storm. When the sphere of light vanished, it left three bodies at the mercy of gravity, plummeting into the soft sand below.

Two of the bodies lay shaking, choking and gasping for air, while the other landed with a catlike grace, on its feet. The woman on her feet began scanning the area at once, her vision unhindered by the complete lack of daylight. Finding no immediate threats to any of them, she helped the boy and his mother to their feet once they had found their breath.

It took a couple minutes for John's eyes to adjust to the dark, since he'd just experienced the brightest light he'd ever seen in his life. He didn't know exactly what had just happened, but he knew he was no longer in a bank vault. What he could make out from the faint starlight when he attempted to observe his surroundings was a sandy ground, littered with rocks, cacti, brittlebush shrubs, and two naked women standing next to him. He was in such a state of shock and confusion that he hadn't even realized that he was lacking clothing himself until that point. The cover of nearly complete darkness brushed away any feeling of modesty, though.

"Where are we?" Sarah asked.

"Same Where. Different When." Cameron responded.

John looked around again, glancing at the horizon, expecting to see the lit up downtown Los Angeles skyline. "Okay..._When_ are we?"

"I set the time displacement equipment for plus eight years. It should be 2007." Cameron explained, sounding confused. "There should be a freeway here now. Something went wrong."

"Oh Jesus... Did we jump too far? Has Judgment Day already happened?" Sarah asked. "Great! Just great! We go to great lengths to try to stop it... I spent years in the nuthouse for talking about it...people have died trying to prevent it, and now we just fast-forwarded to the unhappy ending of the world??"

Cameron sifted some sand through her fingers. "No. There are no traces of radiation whatsoever. No thermonuclear detonations have occurred here."

"Could we have jumped so far into the future that the radiation has...worn off?" John asked.

"No. In order for radiation levels to be as low as they are, we would have to be thousands of years beyond Judgment Day." Cameron explained. "The time displacement equipment has an effective range of approximately 130 years."

"Then how else could everything be...just, gone?" John's mind started filling with thoughts of alternate timelines, parallel universes, and time paradox mechanics. His head was spinning with the infinite possibilities of impossible to comprehend scenarios. _STOP!_ John closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. _Get a grip, John. Remember...all other things being equal, the simplest solution is the best._ With this sudden brain cleansing thought, John spoke. "We didn't jump forward in time. We went into the past."

"Yes, John. That would satisfy the Occam's Razor principle, and is likely true." Cameron was glad that John figured this out himself. The ability to rationalize and use logical deduction reminded her of future John, her John. "It is a valid assumption that Skynet had an undercover agent working with the Resistance engineers building the time machine in the bank vault. It is plausible that Skynet instructed the agent to set it up to send us back in time a century or more, regardless what date was entered into the machine by us." She looked upward to the stars. "According to the position of the stars, we have arrived in the late nineteenth century." After a few more seconds of gazing into the night sky, she added, "Eighteen eighty five, to be exact."

"So that's how they finally win then." Sarah stated with a crushed voice. "They couldn't kill John or me directly, so they got rid of us by sending us somewhere where our existence would be irrelevant. As far as the future of The Resistance and Judgment Day is concerned, we are as good as dead." She wanted to drop to her knees, and fought back tears. "We've failed."

"Mom! Stop. It's not over until it's over, and I'm not quitting until I actually AM dead. If we can't be there to stop Judgment Day, then we can try to leave messages for people in the future, or alter the course of time away from computer's and technology...anything. As long as we're still breathing, we can do _something_!"

There it was again. More of the future John she knew and loved. Leader John. Her John. A faint smile crept into Cameron's lips, hidden by the cover of darkness. "We should get moving soon. Judging by the temperature, it is mid-summer, and traveling by day will be taxing to you two in the desert, especially with no clothing. There's a small town..." Cameron halted her speech when she saw the glow of two red dots on the ground a 20 or 30 yards away.

_Identify: T-888 head module...Cromartie._

Cameron immediately walked over to the head sitting on the ground. After picking up the metal skull, she opened the port on the side of the head and pulled out the main chip, examined it for a moment, then crushed it in her hand.

By this time Sarah and John had made their way over to where Cameron was standing. She handed the metal skull to John. "Here. We should keep this. It looks shiny and expensive. We could trade it for food, water and clothing."

John held the Terminator head in his hands and examined it. He had never seen close before, and if fascinated him. The tool of man's destruction seemed so inanimate and harmless to him right now, like an unloaded gun, or a decommissioned grenade like they have on display in museums. It was difficult to imagine that behind her pretty face and soft brown eyes, Cameron was essentially the same as the object he held in his hand.

"I say we bury it." Sarah said. "What if it falls into the wrong hands?"

"Who's 'wrong hands', mom?" John protested. "At worst, someone might think it's some ancient, tribal idol or something... some kind of artifact." That seemed to satisfy Sarah for the time being.

"As I was saying...there is a town about 20 miles east of here. We should head there."

"Why don't we just head back to Los Angeles...or whatever it's called in this time?" John asked. "Wouldn't it make sense to go to a larger city? Easier to blend in? And besides, it's closer."

"No." Cameron corrected. "A smaller town will serve us much better. It will be easier to befriend the locals and set up a safe, enjoyable life in a smaller town."

"What? Set up a life? You act like it's all over!" John protested. "We need to figure out a way to build our own time displacement device, and..."

Cameron grabbed John by the shoulders and gave him a sympathetic look. "John. The technology to build even the most basic components of the time displacement equipment will not exist for over half a century. It's over." It pained her greatly to kill his hope and crush his resolve, but she had to. Future John, her John, would never exist now; would never need to exist. Her John was the product of fighting his whole life, and as much as she loved that version of him, she knew he would be better off leading a normal 19th century lifestyle.

Normally Cameron was able to control emotion, turn it off even. However the sudden awareness that she would never meet her future love was in effect a metaphysical "goodbye", and her emotion suppression algorithm was not designed to contain everything she now felt. Sure, John would mature and grow older, but without Judgment Day and the war, he would never truly develop into the same man. She pulled the boy to her and hugged him tight. "I'm sorry," she said with a trembling voice. "We're 114 years in the past, and we can never go back." She blinked a pair of tears out of her eyes. _Goodbye, future John Connor._ "I've failed you."

John was overwhelmed by the situation. Why was she hugging him? Is she crying? _Can_ she cry? His head was spinning with questions, and on top of everything, he was being held against the naked body he'd forbade himself to have impure thoughts about. He had never seen Cameron show any emotion except for what he assumed was a rehearsed act that she played on the first day of school back in New Mexico.

"Cameron." He pushed away held her at arms length. It was hard to see in the dark, but the faint glow from the waning crescent moon reflected off of the wetness of her eyes. _Terminators _can _cry, after all._ "You haven't failed your mission," he said trying to comfort her with logic. Logic was the language of a computer, and somehow she had lost sight of that logic when her emotions, or her computer generated simulation of emotions (he wasn't quite sure which, yet) had taken over. "I'm still alive, and I'm completely safe from any and all Skynet threats...for good."

"Oh great! This is all we need! A moody, emotional crying machine that breaks down whenever she thinks her mission is in jeopardy," Sarah said, rolling here eyes even though no one could see them. "Shape up, Tin-Miss. The story's not over yet. We're still out in the middle of a desert with no food, no clothes, and most importantly, no water. If there's a town nearby, we better get going if we want to get there before sunrise."

_Crying machine? Moody?_ Cameron took offense to these words, as much as a microchip brain _could_ be offended, anyway. _Did you not cry when Kyle Reese was removed from your life, Miss Connor? Were you not just on the verge of a nervous breakdown five minutes ago when you found out that we were lost in the past? _Cameron decided that pointing out Sarah's hypocrisy was not useful to the mission, so she held her words. It was also apparent to her that Sarah did not realize the true reason for her sadness, so it was most efficient to ignore it. Deleting the thoughts that made her want to verbally retaliate, Cameron washed all emotion off of her face and out of her voice, and then turned her head toward Sarah. "You're right." She began walking, letting John's hands slip off of her shoulders. "Follow me."

* * *

After a good two hours of hiking through the dark, stepping on random sharp rocks, thistles, and other crisp desert shrubbery, John's bare feet were hurting. He was sure that they were blistered at least and bleeding at worst. He had never realized how much he took having shoes for granted. He considered complaining, but it would fall on deaf ears and accomplish nothing, so he pressed on.

"Stop." The mechanical girl halted and put a palm out to signal her followers to stop as well. Off in the distance, the faintest glimmer of amber light flickered. John and Sarah could barely make it out, but Cameron saw with magnified and light enhanced vision, the dying flames of a nightly campfire. She could see that there were two men sleeping near the fire, but could not discern any more details without getting closer. "Wait here."

Cameron silently approached the campsite, and identified one adolescent girl in addition to the two sleeping men. The two men were of Italian descent, but dressed like Mexican bandits. The girl was dressed in upper class garb; a corseted light blue dress that was dirty and torn in a few places. Her hair was a mess, still partially tied in a fancy bun, and somewhat strewn about. There was obviously some struggle in her recent past. A rolled bandanna was used as a gag, and her hands were bound behind her back. All three of them were sound asleep. Cameron assumed that this was some sort of ransom kidnapping, and her assumption would later prove to be correct. Also in the vicinity were two sleeping horses, saddled with travel packs.

Being careful not to disturb the horses, Cameron gently opened the saddlebags and inspected their contents. She was pleased to find a pair of pants, a shirt, a dagger and a small leather bag that held eight gold coins. She slipped on the pants, pulling the drawstrings tight. When she pulled her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, she realized how ridiculously baggy the men's clothes were on her small body, and that the excess material would just get in her way. For an instant, she considered taking the kidnapped girl's dress, since she was approximately the same size. _Negative. Her clothing is highly impractical and inefficient. _ So she rolled the sleeves up and tied a knot in the shirt near her waist. _Much better. _After tailoring the shirt to fit her, she decided that the extra length of the pant legs would pose a problem walking, so she used the dagger to cut several inches off of them.

Ripping and cutting the pants made just enough noise to wake one of the men. He sat up and looked at Cameron with slight confusion. Confused partially due to the disorientation of having just woken up, and also from trying to figure out why this mysterious girl was at their campsite and wearing his extra clothes. After a second or two of staring blankly at her, his hand instinctively went for his gun. Cameron stomped on his hand before it could reach the handle of his pistol, and simultaneously grabbed him by the neck, blocking passage of air to his mouth.

He writhed trying to throw her off of him, but was not nearly strong enough. Cameron intended to choke him until he passed out, and then go about her business, possibly robbing him on his clothing to give to John. Her plans changed once the noise from the struggle woke the second man.

Cameron was too far away from him to prevent him from reaching his gun and drawing it on her. She watched as the muzzle flash lit up the area like a strobe light. The bullet penetrated the skin directly over her chest, and if she were human, her heart would have a hole in it. But Tin-Miss does not have a heart. Tin-Miss has a hyper-alloy combat chassis. She also has incredibly accurate knife throwing skills.

With a quick flick of her wrist and forearm, she sent the dagger through the air and into the shooter's throat. The man with a dagger in his throat managed to squeeze off two more terribly aimed shots before the blood loss to his head caused him to black out, and eventually bleed to death, gagging and gurgling. One of the two shots was sent off into the night sky, and the other buried a .45 caliber slug into the breast of one of the horses.

As soon as John heard the gunshots, he looked over at his mother and said, "I guess subtlety isn't one of her strong points", then took off running towards the commotion.

"John! Wait!" Sarah protested. "She can take care of herself!"

"She's not the one I'm worried about!" John shouted over his shoulder without missing a step.

When John arrived at the campsite a moment later, he was shocked to see two men laying on the sand, one with a very bloody throat, the other with a broken neck, a gurgling and wheezing horse on the ground, and Cameron holding a bloody dagger standing over a bound and gagged girl in a fancy dress. As Cameron crouched down and began to move the blade toward the girl, John screamed at her, "Cameron! NO!!! Stop!"

John was physically too far away to grab Cameron's arm to stop her, but stumbled and lunged toward her anyway in a vain attempt to prevent another death that night.

The knife Cameron held was slipped between the girl's wrists, and pulled out with a surgical precision, cutting the ropes that bound them together. John sighed a breath of relief when he realized Cameron's true intention.

The girl used her now free hands to rip the gag out of her mouth. She looked at Cameron and John with a frightened wonderment. "Th-thank you. Who are you?"

"I'm John, and this is my... sister, Cameron."

Sarah finally caught up to the group and interjected, "And I'm their mother."

"Well, I thank you. Your daughter saved my life." She averted her eyes with modesty from Sarah. "Why are you naked? Did someone rob you?"

"Something like that... long story," Sarah responded. "Who were these men? Who are you? Were they going to..."

The conversation came to a halt with the sound of the Colt Peacemaker firing off another round into the gurgling horse's skull. John, Sarah and the girl all jumped and whipped their heads around to look at Cameron holding the smoking pistol and staring down at the dead animal. She looked up to see everyone glaring at her. "Was that a bad thing to do? It was dying, so I put it out of its misery."

John shook his head and breathed a sigh as he spoke, "No. It was the noble thing to do, but you could have warned us first."

"Sorry. I'll warn you before I kill again."

The way she spoke made John shudder. _Before she kills again? Jesus... it's so easy to forget that she is designed to end lives._

After a few seconds of very awkward silence, the girl said, "Rose. Rose Garrison. That's my name. My father is Albert Garrison, owner of Garrison Rail. It's a shipping company. One of the bigger ones in the southwest. I assume these bandits here meant to hold me for ransom since my father is wealthy."

"Well, Rose, you don't have to worry about them anymore." John extended his hand to help Rose to her feet.

"Thank you," she said with a warm smile that John couldn't help but return to her. Rose could not stop staring into John's eyes, which twinkled in the dim light of the glowing campfire embers mixed with the moon and star light. Her smile involuntarily became wider and wider. This scenario was something she had only read about in fictional books; a fair maiden being rescued by a handsome knight in shining armor. _Well... he's not wearing armor, but that doesn't bother me, _she thought as she stole a very quick glance downward.

John was reminded of his nakedness once again when he saw Rose's eyes wander south for a second. Before he could process a thought about covering himself, his field of vision was mostly invaded by Cameron's face, glaring at him. A split second later, he felt something soft thrust into his gut, causing him to huff out a breath of air.

"John, put these on," Cameron ordered as she shoved the bundle of clothing that she had stripped off of one of the bandits into John's gut.

Sarah had already begun helping herself to the clothes the other man was wearing, and once she was dressed, she checked the rest of the campsite for useful items. She collected another .45 Colt revolver, complete with a holster and a bullet-holding belt, which she strapped to her waist.

They were fortunate that the other horse hadn't run away during all the commotion, because there was a Winchester Model 1873 rifle tied to the saddle. Cameron began loading some of the supplies on the horse. "We should keep moving, before the sun comes up," she said, directing her attention at Sarah, since John seemed to be preoccupied with Rose.

"I agree." Sarah walked over to John and Rose. "Hey, girly. You have any idea where we're at?"

"Four days ride east of Los Angeles," Rose responded. "At least I think we were traveling due east most of the time..."

"A four day ride, assuming they stopped for seven to eight hours each night," Cameron chimed in, "would be equivalent to nine days walking."

"Jesus... nine days? Do we even have food enough for that long?" Sarah worried.

"No worries ma'am, I believe they were taking me to Hill Valley. It's a small town not more than a few hours walk from here," Rose said as she pointed east.

* * *

**Closing notes:**

**Well, there's the setup. I foresee old west style saloon fistfights, six-shooter and lever-action rifle shootouts... plus all the usual "Back to the Future" characters (who will appear next chapter). And who knows... (I'm writing this one as I go.. no REAL plan) they might end up in 1955, or even 1985 at some point later on. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Back To The Post Apocalyptic Future**

**Chapter 2 – Hill Valley**

The four of them and their horse continued eastward following the rising sun. When they climbed over the crest of a hill, they were met with the sight of the bustling main street of a small town in the valley below.

As they made their way through town, Sarah watched her son look around with wide eyes. The concept of time-travel had only ever been real in theory to her. Even experiencing the time-jump the previous night only seemed like some surreal happening that placed her in the middle of the desert. The desert was timeless. Sand looked like sand whether it was 1999 or 10,000 B.C. Walking through a late 19th century town finally made it real to her.

She noticed the obvious difference in the way that Cameron was looking around. Whereas John's eyes were bouncing around from building to building, her radar-like eyes swept back and forth like security cameras. The machine was likely taking a visual record of the town's layout. Sarah too did her best to memorize the locations of the landmarks on Main Street; a meat market, a dry goods store, an undertaker and cabinet maker, a bank, the Palace Saloon on the corner, and the Marshall's office with a sign in the window that read:

**Gone to Haysville for hanging of Stinky Lomax**

_There's no town Marshall... things could get dangerous_, she thought.

Sarah handed John four of the eight gold pieces that they took from the bandits' camp and told him to go to the tailor and buy them some clothing. She would look into finding them a place to stay, and getting Rose sent home to LA.

Rose put up a slight protest to this. It was obvious to Sarah that the girl preferred to stay by the side of her newly found crush, but Sarah didn't want John alone with her without her supervision. It was too big of a risk at this point. John or could say something stupid about the future. Also, she wanted to get this girl on the first train back home, so they could start fresh in this town without having to incorporate being naked in the middle of the desert last night as part of their cover story.

"But I want to help John find new clothes! I'll pick him out something very handsome," Rose said, smiling at John even though she was complaining to Sarah.

"Cameron can pick something out. She's... good with clothes and stuff." Sarah responded.

"Yes," Cameron added. "I'll pick out something totally phat."

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In the tailor, John was thoroughly enjoying himself. It was like dressing up for Halloween. He normally hated cowboy boots, but considering the circumstances, he was rather proud of the dark brown pair he now owned. He picked out a nice hat too; one with a big, flat brim. A leather vest and a long coat completed the look.

Cameron purchased a more gender appropriate outfit; a modest grey dress with a white blouse and a lightweight sun-hat. Along with the clothes, she purchased a handbag to carry the T-888 skull and the extra ammunition, etc.

She knew Sarah would not stand for something so impractical, so she purchased some more utilitarian clothes for her; long pants, a flannel shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots like John's. The tailor agreed to hold Sarah's clothes so she could come in later on to pick them up.

After leaving the tailor, they still had one gold coin and some change left over. "Let's see what else this town has to offer," John said. He giggled in amusement as the spurs on his boots jingled as he walked along the street. They walked to the corner of the street and stepped up to the front entrance of the Palace Saloon. John stood in front of the swinging double doors, shoved them open and walked through, allowing the doors to flap back and forth behind him. _I've always wanted to do that,_ he thought.

He looked around the saloon and saw several empty tables, one table occupied by three older men playing poker and drinking, a couple other tables with a patron or two at them, the bartender standing behind the bar which was in front of a wall of fancy and intricate woodwork. A woman's voice called out to him, "hey there stranger!" He looked up and saw three women standing on the second floor balcony wearing risqué corsets and lacy stockings blowing kisses at him. "You need some company, cutie?"

John, still grinning stupidly, immediately started walking to the stairs. He was stopped short when Cameron grabbed the collar of his shirt. "No," she said to him, and then glared up at the women on the balcony. Holding on to the scruff of John's neck, she directed him over to a table in the corner of the saloon and forcibly sat him down in a chair. She sat next to him, pulled her chair up to the table, then flashed him an annoyingly fake smile.

Shortly after that, the bartender approached their table. "You need a drink, son?"

"Yeah. Uhh... you got change for this?" John placed the large gold coin on the table.

"Sure do," the bartender replied. "What'll it be?"

"Tequila."

"One shot of Mexican Fire, commin' right up. And for you, Miss?"

"I don't drink," Cameron responded.

--------------------

"What do you mean the train is out of service?" Sarah asked angrily to the ticket agent.

"Sorry, ma'am. There was a derailment on one of the westbound trains yesterday, and the rail company has cancelled all trains from here to LA until next Monday."

Sarah let out a sigh. "Great." She turned to Rose. "Looks like you'll be staying with us for a few days."

Of course this didn't bother Rose one bit. She couldn't help but grin at the prospect of spending a few days (and hopefully a couple nights) with her boy she fancied. After a few days of courting John, maybe she could convince him to come back with her to LA on Monday.

She chastised herself for being so bold (if only in her own mind). _Mother would be surely scold me for chasing after a low class boy like John. _She decided that since her mother was out of sight, she was also out of her jurisdiction.

-----------------

Cameron had the ultimate poker face. She was proving to be quite the card shark against the other three men at the Saloon. John however, was doing a fantastic job of losing as much money back to the men as Cameron was hustling from them.

As the next hand was being dealt, a strange looking younger guy in a ridiculous pink shirt and red pants walked into the saloon. He sat at the bar and attempted to order ice-water, garnering laughter from most of the people in the bar. Cameron kept an eye on him. Something didn't seem right about this man. She then noticed his shoes. Nike brand tennis shoes. They were of a style consistent with mid 1980's fashion. She would need to investigate this individual further.

"You sure you don't want to share a room for a little while, honey?" said one of the prostitutes, that had now walked up behind John's chair and was pawing at his hair, and rubbing his neck.

"Uhmm... I'm kinda broke now... these guys took all my money," John responded, that stupid grin back on his face. "Can I borrow some money, sis?" he asked Cameron.

Cameron's blank poker-face turned into a icy glare. "No."

"Aww, that's okay honey," the call-girl said. "For a cutie-pie like you, the first one's on the house."

Cameron reached into her handbag and gripped the handle of her Colt Peacemaker and began to draw it out when a group of rough looking thugs burst into the bar, and started harassing the man in the pink shirt and Nike tennis shoes.

Everyone but Cameron and John cowered and hid when the Nike wearing man called the leader of the thugs "Mad Dog Tannen".

When Mad Dog Tannen started firing his pistol at the floor where Nike-man was standing and demanding that he dance, Cameron grabbed John by the shirt and pulled him around behind her, so that her body was shielding him.

She watched the man dance and something else peculiar about him struck her. His dance moves seemed to be modeled after the stylistic creations of Michael Jackson, including one signature move, "The Moon Walk". He performed a final jump move that inadvertently caused a loose floorboard to launch a spittoon at Mr. Tannen, covering him in the vile, slimy liquid that was inside.

Nike-man ran out of the saloon, but was soon captured and tied up by the men in Tannen's gang. These outlaws were a very high threat to Nike-man, and Cameron still needed to question him. She could not allow the Tannen gang to kill him.

Cameron told John, "Stay here," and ran out of the saloon, after the gang.

She ran to the end of the street where the gang was now hanging Nike-man by the neck with a rope. She was about to shoot the man holding the other end of the rope, when a rifle shot rang out, and the rope was severed. Off in the distance, she could see an older man holding a rifle with a rudimentary scope attached to it, and was now aiming it at Tannen. She used this opportunity to approach Nike-man, who was now laying on the ground, rubbing his neck. "Are you okay, sir?" she asked him as she extended her hand to help him to his feet.

***

Marty struggled against the rope, which gripped his neck and burned as the fibers dug into his skin. He started to feel light headed as he gasped for air. His ears were ringing and his vision had began to fade. After a minute he felt as though he was floating. No. Not floating. Falling. A half second later, he and the ground became intimate friends, and he coughed for air.

He could now hear a familiar voice arguing with Mad Dog Tannen, but his concentration to their conversation was broken when a woman appeared, standing over him. She held her hand out to him. His mind was still spinning from being dragged through the street behind a horse, and nearly choked to death, and to him, she appeared as a beautiful angel, backlit by the morning sun, offering him salvation. He graciously took her hand and was surprised at the force with which she pulled him up.

"Who are you," he croaked, rubbing his neck.

"Marty!" Doc Brown shouted to him, stealing his attention away from Cameron.

"Doc!" As entranced as he was by the pretty girl who'd just helped him up, it wasn't enough to completely distract him from the reason he'd come to this time. He began to walk away from Cameron to greet Doc, and stopped for a moment to say to her, "Thanks. I'll... see you around."

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Sarah was scanning the bulletin-board postings at the post office looking for a place to rent, when she heard gunshots. Her hand instinctively went to her hip expecting to find the plastic handle of a Glock 17. Instead, she felt the carved sandalwood grips of the Colt Peacemaker. To feel something so familiar, yet so different, was subtly disorienting. Not a second or two after she drew the weapon, a commanding voice spoke to her.

"You'll have to keep that holstered while on government property, ma'am," said the worker behind the counter.

Sarah was dumbfounded by the man's indifference to the gunshots. She even noticed that Rose barely gave more than a mildly curious glance out the window, then continued looking at the bulletin board. Hearing gunshots in the rough parts of L.A. wasn't exactly rare, but people still usually reacted with a fair amount of concern. These people acted like it was a no more alarming than the noon-whistle. She looked out the window and saw a gang of men run out of the saloon, chasing some other guy dressed in loud colors. Her eyes widened and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when she watched the gang rope him like a calf and dragged him behind their horses. "Isn't anyone going to do anything?" she pleaded with the post man.

"Marshall Strickland is gone to Haysville for a few days. Don't worry ma'am. You'll be safe in here," he said as he pointed to the pair of double-barrel shotguns mounted on the wall behind him. He proudly added, "Tannen and his gang know better than to mess with the United States Post Office."

Sarah let out a small, sardonic laugh. "Yeah... I suppose he doesn't want you going postal on him."

"Going postal, ma'am?"

"Never mind... I just..." before she could take her foot out of her mouth, she saw Cameron run down the street after the gang and their victim. "Shit," she said under her breath. "Stay here, missy," she ordered to Rose, and ran out of the post office.

Her bare feet slowed her pace, and Sarah regretted not picking up her new clothes from the tailor before going to the post office. By the time she got to the end of the road by the clock-tower construction, the situation was already diffused, and Cameron was walking back toward her. The man in the colorful clothes had met up with, and was patting his hand on the back of an older looking gentleman with long silver hair.

"What the hell just happened? Where's John?" she shouted at the machine.

"John is in the Palace Saloon. I was ensuring the survival of Marty."

"Who?"

"Marty. That is what the old man called him just a moment ago."

Sarah whipped her head and looked over as the two men were walking away from them. "I don't care what his name is! Why the hell are you chasing him down the street and 'ensuring his survival' when John is by himself in the wild-west during a gunfight!?"

"John is safe. The gunmen causing trouble had all left the saloon before I pursued them. Marty must live because I believe he is a temporal anomaly."

"A what?"

"A temporal anomaly. Like us."

"He's a time-traveler?"

"That is the likely conclusion. That's why I needed to ensure those men didn't kill him. I need to find out more about him."

_Another time traveler? Here? _Sarah's head was overflowing with questions and possibilities. What would Skynet or The Resistance need in the 1880's? Was he sent there to help them? How would he ever get back to the post apocalyptic future? Would he even _want_ to? She took a deep breath and calmed herself. _Simplify. Take action._ "Well... first thing's first. Let's get John and find a place to stay. I saw a couple of postings for rental houses at the post office.

----------------------------

"JOHN!!"

The sound of his mother's voice cut through the ambient saloon chatter. The tequila had slowed his reaction time a bit, but it still took only a fraction of a second for him to peel his lips away from those belonging to the girl sitting next to him.

Rose immediately retreated to her chair and stared at the table in front of her with her head tilted down in embarrassment.

_Busssted._ Oh well... he'd been in bigger trouble a hundred times. What was her problem anyway? Hell... in this time, being 15 was like middle-aged or something. And back before they broke her out of the nuthouse, he'd made out with that one chick for like 2 hours. "Chill out, Mom. Rose 'n I were just talking." He looked over to see the Rose's red face develop a guilty smile. _Oh yeah... Girls always have a smile on their face after being with John Connor,_ he gloated to himself, unable to hold back a devious grin of his own.

His grin slowly gave way to a look of astonishment and confusion when he looked over at Cameron. Here was the ultimate killing machine, looking... _sad?_ It was a look similar to the previous night; when she'd come to the conclusion that she'd failed her mission. Her expression was less intense, and her fake tears or whatever weren't starting to pool in her eyes, but she still had that same "Santa isn't real?" look on her face.

A second later, her face changed back to a blank slate, and she said, "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Back To The Post Apocalyptic Future**

**Chapter 3 – Big Plans**

"So, this is what we get to call home for the next hundred twenty years?" John picked at the peeling wallpaper. "Needs paint."

Sarah pulled the curtains shut. "Actually, it's our home for the next month. That's when our lease is up."

"Where'd you get the money for this place anyway? I thought we spent most of our gold on our clothes," John said, stretching his suspenders with his thumbs.

"I sold the endo-skull to the antiquities dealer for eighty bucks."

John plopped down in a ratty, dusty chair. "So after a month we're back on the street?"

"No. We have two months to get jobs that pay forty dollars a month or more. I already found you one."

"I have a job?" John leaned forward in the chair and smiled. "Like, a real, normal job that regular kids my age get?" Maybe life in the 1880's wouldn't be so bad. He'd get to hang out with locals, throw back a beer at the saloon after a hard day's work, and get up and go to work to earn an honest living without worrying about being the leader of the human race. This could be fun.

"You'll be shoveling horse crap for A. Jones Manure Hauling service."

Or not. John sank back into the chair. "Oh well. Still beats dodging bullets. When do I start?"

"Saturday. Afternoon shift."

"Saturday? No! That's the big clock tower festival and dance! I can't go there smelling like... like..."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about parties and dances?"

"I was..." He lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder to one of the closed bedroom doors. "I was going to ask Rose to go with me."

Simultaneously, Rose and Cameron each whipped open their respective bedroom doors and stepped out. Rose came bounding across the living room to where John was sitting and threw her arms around him. "Oh John! Of course I'll go with you to the clock-tower dance!"

Cameron's door slammed shut. Dust and plaster rained from the ceiling near her bedroom.

* * *

Marty woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. One of Doc's contraptions had prepared a delicious breakfast for him. He wandered over to the lab—well, barn to be more accurate, but Doc called it his lab—and collected his freshly cooked eats.

He couldn't believe he was actually in the old west. He was just starting to get used to 1955, and now he had to deal with a whole new set of social norms, lingo, and universe-ending paradoxes to worry about.

Hopefully he wouldn't need to spend too much time here though. Doc was busy coming up with a way to make the Delorian work again. Although, he hadn't been putting in 110 percent like he normally does now that this Clara Clayton woman was in the picture, _distracting_ him. _Should have let her fall into Clayton Ravine like she was supposed to._

Marty shook his head. That wasn't a nice thought. He was losing it. He just wanted to get back to the future and hold Jennifer in his arms, go on that camping trip, and—

The door to the barn creaked loudly as it opened. Marty jumped out of his chair, spilling his plate of eggs.

"I'm sorry," said a young woman's voice. "I didn't mean to startle you." It was the same girl from the other day. The one who helped him up after Tannen tried to hang him.

"You!" He didn't have any other words to say. She was just as pretty as before, and he was equally tongue-tied. He also quickly realized that he was wearing nothing but a pair of long underwear. "I uh... it's okay. I just wasn't expecting anyone. That's all."

"I saw you talking to the blacksmith the other day, and I assumed you were friends with him. I was told I could find him, and presumably you, here." She looked at the plate of spilled food on the ground. She lifted her head and smiled at him. "And I believe I owe you a breakfast."

"No, no. It's fine. I didn't even make it. This machine did." He pointed to the contraption Doc had set up for the morning routine.

"Oh, well, I still feel I owe you something. I'll think of a way to make it up to you eventually."

"It's nothing, really." He scratched the back of his head. "Uh, not that I'm complaining, but is there a reason you cam here?"

"Your shoes. They're very interesting."

"Well... uh... they are custom. One of a kind. I got them overseas. In China, actually." That wasn't a total lie... they were probably made in China anyway.

"Really? I don't believe you." She took a couple steps toward him.

"What? Why not? You ever see shoes like this before?" There's no way she has. If she says she's been to China, he'd just say he remembered wrong and that they were actually from Thailand.

"Yes. I've owned a pair of Nikes myself. But I'm not so concerned _where_ you got them. It's _when_ you bought them that I'm curious about."

Marty swallowed hard. Don't freak out. She isn't implying time-travel. This is probably just some huge coincidence and she wants to know what model-year my shoes are. My shoes that don't exist yet. Oh man... this was getting heavy.

"I, uh... in... eighty three."

The girl tilted her head, and looked to be skeptical. "Fair enough."

This was getting way too weird. It's almost like she could see through his ruse. But no way would anyone from this time think he was from the future. They'd sooner think he was a witch, or demon or something, right? There was something odd about her though. Like he could tell her everything about all the decade-hopping he'd done and she would totally understand. He reminded himself how crazy he'd sound if he did. He needed to get her out of there before she decided to look under the tarp which covered the Delorean. Hell, if she wasn't such a cute woman he'd had sent her on her way as soon as she said the word "shoes." _Oh crap, she's stepping closer._

"Well, Mr..."

"Eastwood."

"Mr. Eastwood, the real reason I came here today, is to ask you if you'd already asked anyone else to accompany you to the clock-tower dance on Saturday night."

"No. I haven't. But I wasn't planning on."

"Great!" She smiled brightly at him. "Then will you take me?"

God, it was hard to say no, but he had to. "Well, sorry, Miss..."

"Phillips. Cameron Philips." She frowned. "You're going to reject my offer. Is it because I asked you, instead of the other way around? I understand that in this time period it's customary for the man to ask the woman, but felt it was worth the chance to break tradition."

This time period? Who talks like that? Except people who aren't _from_ that time period. No. That's ridiculous, wasn't it? This, along with the comments about his shoes... maybe she was... _no. Stop it._ But if Doc made a time-machine, couldn't someone else have invented one too? Maybe it would be worth talking to her some more.

"Alright Cameron." He forced a smile. "I can't say no to such a pretty girl."

"Excellent." She took a step back. "I'll see you at five on Saturday."


End file.
